


Solitaire

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, Confined/Caged, Glory Hole, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Urination, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon hates being confined, hates being forced to do things, and most of all, he hates how much he can be made to enjoy it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solitaire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a sexy taboos ficathon, so, yeah, I went outside of my comfort zone a bit. But only a bit.

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Avon slid down the wall and sat on the bare metal floor, chill against his naked flesh. The chamber was featureless, save for ventilation holes in the ceiling, far above his reach, and several holes in the glossy metal walls, meant for the most rudimentary of sanitary facilities. It was also claustrophobically small. He could stand at one wall and lean over to lay his hands flat against the opposite one.

He had always wanted to be left alone, but not like this. He rubbed his arms and tried not to look at his reflection, thin, pale and vulnerable without his clothing 'armor'. He'd been in cells like this before. They always listened and watched, waiting for you to crack, and then they'd come and finish breaking you. It was damnably efficient, but Avon was strong. Well, perhaps that wasn't quite the right word. Avon was bloody-minded. He would _not_ give his tormentor the satisfaction.

He got up and paced in tiny circles for a few minutes, putting off the inevitable. He hadn't known he would be placed in this cell when he'd had his most recent meal, or he wouldn't have drunk so much. He'd been celebrating. He was soon to be free, rich and powerful. 

Oh, how he'd miscalculated. He'd been caught totally off-guard, dragged away still protesting his innocence (it was worth a try), forcibly stripped, and thrown in here. No lock-picks. No tools of any kind, except for his mind. Silence is a weapon, so is isolation, and cold. Avon had used them often enough, and now they were being thrown back at him.

Finally he gave in and went to one of the holes, guiding his cock in place. He closed his eyes, forced himself to relax, and began urinating. Soft warmth wrapped around him. He shouted and tried to jerk back, but a hand was gripping him firmly, holding him in place. Unable to stop pissing, he cursed and made outrageous threats, but the mouth continued to drink until he was done.

He tried once more to pull away, but the mouth wasn't done with him, and began licking and sucking. Avon moaned. "Stop it." Damn, he'd sworn he wouldn't say a word.

A chuckle from the other side of the wall was his only reply. That, and more suction. Avon was helpless. His rapist could bite or use a knife or... oh, damn... teeth gently, so gently scraping his cock. He moaned and pressed himself up against the wall, thrusting. He could never resist a slight edge of pain and his tormentor obviously knew that, and knew exactly when to ease off the stimulation to keep him going. After a few minutes he didn't care if he was going to be shot, just so he was allowed to _die_ first.

"Please! Let me come!"

There was a pause, and then the mouth resumed work, aided by the controlling hand. This time it didn't slacken until Avon cried out and came, panting and pressing against the wall now slick with his sweat. He slid down and lay on the floor, gasping for several minutes before he realized two things. He was free--- well, no, he was still imprisoned, but his cock had been released without harm. And he heard a metallic tapping. He tilted his head up and saw a set of sonokeys dangling from the hole. From the look of them, they'd fit the lock of his cell.

He twisted and lunged for them, but missed as they were pulled back. A moment later a large, heavily greased cock filled the hole, moving in until Avon could see a hint of pubic hair at the base. The offer was obvious and probably genuine. After all, he wasn't much good to anyone in here; he had to be let out eventually. He refused to consider that he could be left in here to die of hunger and thirst. No, he was too useful to discard without an attempt to brainwash him into compliance.

Avon was disgusted and intrigued at the same time. He _did_ enjoy being fucked under the right circumstances, when he was in control. And if he was going to die, why shouldn't he have as much simple animal pleasure as possible ahead of time? 

He ran his hand the length of the cock, gathering lube, and was gratified to see it hastily withdrawn. That's right, if Avon wanted to, he could do something very nasty to it. After all, how much worse off could he be? He grinned and used the lube on his arse, then positioned himself pressed against the hole, hands braced against the opposite wall. 

He moaned as the cock returned. It pushed into him slowly at first, then faster and deeper, until his arms strained to hold him still against the rough thrusts. "AH!" He did so love having a big man up him. Even when he didn't like the man. Anonymous sex was so simple, so pure and clean compared to dancing around the issue with coy looks, 'casual' touches, and silent invitations. It was a pity he wasn't young enough to get it up again himself, but then, this way he could concentrate on using his rapist, on clenching and rotating, and showing the bastard just how good Avon could make it, if only they were on the same side. Let him realize that this was meaningless to Avon, just physical sensation. He wasn't breaking Avon to his will. Avon was using him.

There was a loud groan from the other side of the wall and the cock stilled, deep inside Avon for a long moment, before withdrawing. Avon felt stickiness slide down between his buttocks, down his thighs. He waited a moment. "Well? I kept my side of the bargain."

There was a loud sigh and what sounded like a zip being done up, then the sound of boots going away from the hole. Avon faced the door expectantly. It opened and a bundle of clothes were flung into his face.

Blake stood there, glaring at him. "You really do hate me, don't you?"

Avon smiled sweetly at Blake and began dressing. "Why, whatever gave you that idea, Blake?" His smile vanished as Blake turned and strode away. Softly he said, "It will be better for both of us once you've gone and I'm left with the _Liberator_. Some people were meant to be alone."

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, it's not really non-con, but it would read that way and upset anyone who'd be upset by non-con. Although the preliminaries hadn't been shown, the preparations, including the specially-built box, made me sure this was something they'd planned together. Avon stayed in the mind-set, in order to enjoy the game.


End file.
